


Lose is more than hesitate

by Ninkasa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninkasa/pseuds/Ninkasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2014!verse. Dean's past self's arrival leads to a lot of hurt feelings and unacknowledged emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose is more than hesitate

He really hadn’t been trying to bait Dean when he’d made the comment about liking Dean’s past self.

Although Cas had realized -- somewhat belatedly -- that this was how it looked. And by then he’d decided that he just didn’t care how it had looked.

It wasn’t as if he’d acted on it. Although he’d thought about it. For about a minute and then Dean. . .2009’s Dean had made mention of Raphael and Chastity and Cas’s heart had sank. 

He wasn’t there yet. This Dean still only saw Castiel as his friend. Cas’s memories were a bit blurred and hazy these days, but he did remember that it was several months after the Chastity debacle. He remembered sitting on the hood of the Impala next to Dean, staring up at the stars and talking about some inane thing.

Actually, it hadn’t seemed inane at the time. At the time, it had seemed like the most important thing in the world.

Dean had been ridiculously talkative and animated that night. Honestly, he’d been drunk, if you wanted to put a word to it. Cas liked to describe things these days. Since Dean had put so much effort into trying to decide exactly what word described him. The point was, Dean had been wasted that night. That first night. The first night Dean had kissed him. The first night they’d fucked.

At the time, Cas was sure he’d thought of the entire situation differently. AT the time, he’d been too busy being overwhelmed by the newness of everything. The newness of the sensations he’d been feeling. Of touch taste and -- yes -- that, there. . .

He’d been too wrapped up in the attempt to prevent the world from ending. In trying to keep Dean from falling apart without his brother. Too busy being desperately and completely in love to worry. Too engulfed in the thousand new experiences to bother with terminology. He’d not been as cynical then. Not as. . .war-torn. Dean had called it war-torn.

He’d let Dean -- his Dean, the Dean he still followed, even as he questioned the man’s judgment -- guide him through the world and experiences.

He suspected that this was when his grace had really begun to go. He’d tethered himself to this world and this man in a way that should have frightened him, but hadn’t. He’d still had faith. In Dean. In the belief that what they were doing was the right thing.

And maybe they had been. Cas wasn’t sure it mattered any more. What mattered was that things had started to fall apart. Too many lost battles. Lost friends. A demon virus that spread like wildfire. And then they’d learned Sam had said yes and suddenly fighting hadn’t seemed so important anymore.

And then they had started to fall apart. It had really been as gradual as everything else, Cas supposed. There’d been more time spent apart, less time talking and as Cas’s mojo had started to slip away, he’d started turning more towards chemical substances (it lessened the pain of being mortal), meditation (it helped him control his thoughts). And later -- when Dean had stopped trying to reason with him and Cas had stopped trying to convince Dean that there was really any reason to keep trying to fight -- he’d started turning to women. And Dean had never said a word.

Not that Cas had anything to feel guilty about. By that point in time, he and Dean had been together in the notion only. It was more just habit than any actual need.

He didn’t feel right saying that he missed Dean. How could you miss someone who was around all the time? But he did. Dean had changed. Hell, they both had. And maybe Dean missed who Cas had once been as much as Cas missed him.

The big difference was that Dean didn’t have a past version of Cas waltzing into camp one day and expecting everything to be the way it had been five years ago.

It made Cas’s chest hurt and the fact that Dean was following along after him as if Cas was his former self only made it hurt more. He’d been letting Dean -- past Dean -- sleep in his cabin because there really wasn’t anywhere else for him to go. He couldn’t very well stay with himself.

It probably didn’t help matters very much. Cas could feel Dean -- his Dean -- watching them. It was a bit unnerving. It had been ages since Dean had cared what Cas did. Cas didn’t understand what difference it should make. They were technically the same person. Although Cas didn’t know how he’d take a past version of himself strolling into camp and following after Dean in the same way.

Cas frowned slightly at the shadow that came across him suddenly.

He opened his eyes and looked up from where he’d been laying on his bed to see Dean -- present Dean -- frowning down at him. 

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s creepy to have someone watching you sleep, you know.”

“Now you know how I felt all those years,” Dean said, mirroring his frown for a moment.

Touché.

Cas pulled himself into sitting position and shrugged his shoulders to try to work out the tightness in them.

“Is there a reason you came in here? Or was it just to stare at me?”

Dean looked around the cabin for a moment. “Where’s your shadow?”

Cas stood up and stretched. “What?” Cas looked around as well. “Oh. I’m not sure.”

When Cas had fallen asleep, Dean had been the other side of the bed. Cas remembered because Dean had had his hand on Cas’s arm when Cas had dozed off. That had to have been hours ago, though. There was no telling where Dean was now. And clearly Dean didn’t know where. . .his self. . .had gone, or he wouldn’t be in here asking.

Or he did, and this was Dean trying to make a point.

“I thought you were watching him,” Dean said after a moment of them staring at each other. “You’re spending an awful lot of time with him.”

There was something in the way he said this that set off warning bells in Cas’s head. 

Cas frowned at him for a moment. “I can’t exactly leave him to wander.”

This was definitely a trap. Cas could see it in the set of Dean’s jaw and the vaguely angry look in his eyes. 

Dean came fully into the room, closing all but an arm’s reach between them. 

“No,” he said after another moment of staring until Cas’s eyes watered. “This is different.” Cas could see the moment of dawning comprehension pass over Dean’s face. “You want him.”

Cas knew he was walking into a trap. But there was something about the accusatory tone that made whatever composure he’d been clinging to snap.

“Of course I want him,” Cas blurted out. “I loved him. I Fell for him.” 

And that was it. The root of the entire problem. The old ache and desperation was back now. Dean wasn’t the same person any longer. They could have gone on pretending that it didn’t matter anymore. But the universe -- or Zachariah, anyway -- couldn’t let that happen and now Cas was faced with a pile of emotions he’d manage to forget and bury with drugs and sex and now it hurt.

And it hurt that Dean was standing there looking betrayed in a way he never had over any woman Cas had ever been with. 

Betrayed that Cas was attracted to. . .him. Jealous. Jealous of himself.

How fucked up was that? 

Cas had a feeling Dean was going to say something, so it came as a shock when Dean grabbed onto the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. 

It should have been the most natural thing in the world. It once had been.

Now it took a moment before Cas could relax, bringing his hands up to run his fingers through Dean’s hair, holding his head still so that Cas could let his tongue gain access to Dean’s mouth. 

Cas wasn’t sure which of them groaned first. He thought it was him. But he did know for certain that it was him that was guiding them back towards the bed he’d been laying on moments before. 

Dean pulled away slightly, letting his tongue trail down Cas’s throat. Cas was certain this time he was the one that moaned. And Cas hated himself for it. For how easily he let Dean guide him down onto the bed, for the desperate cry and the way his hips jerked eagerly when Dean’s hand slid beneath the waistband of his jeans.

It was all far too familiar and easy after that. Easy to slide his hands beneath the folds of Dean’s shirt to the skin underneath. 

Cas remembered being alarmed that first time at the heat Dean’s body had put off. He remembered worrying for a moment that perhaps Dean had been ill. He realized later that this was something natural. It was the reason the Impala’s windows fogged up on winter nights. He remembered Dean laughing when he brought this up.

Cas groaned and pulled both layers of shirt over Dean’s head, tossing them haphazardly to floor and running his hands gently -- he’d have once said reverently -- down the sides to slip desperately beneath the waistband of Dean’s jeans.

Cas felt a brief thrill of triumph when Dean’s hips bucked almost helplessly into his palm. His skin was already slick with sweat as Cas worked his hand around to undo the button of Dean’s jeans, making it easier to slip his fingers past the waistband and then groaned when Dean’s licking turned to biting. Cas twisted slightly to raise up and help Dean slide his jeans off while Dean helped rid himself of his shirt at the same time.

Cas realized as they were sliding and moving desperately against each other that this was the exact moment that he gave up what semblance of control he’d had. He was permitting himself to be pushed down further into the mattress even as he struggled with helping Dean rid himself of his own jeans.

Cas would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t over the years fantasized about this. He did. Often. More often than he was willing to admit when not under immediate threat of torture.

But there was a difference. Dean tasted different, smelled different. There were different scars than he remembered. Hell, Cas was fair positive that Dean was probably thinking the same thing about him.

Cas slid his legs up to slowly wrap around Dean’s legs, pulling them in closer to each other. 

Dean groaned, fingers coming up to thread into Cas’s hair as he kissed and licked a path back up to Cas’s mouth. 

There was a difference in fantasies based on memories and the real thing. Obviously. Dean knew precisely which buttons to push to get a certain reaction.

Cas gasped and his back arched up where Dean’s teeth had found his nipple. The gasp turned into a groan.

Dean should know which buttons to push. He’d installed them.

Cas groaned again as Dean’s fingers slipped down over his stomach to tease lightly across the tip of Cas’s cock, down to wrap around the base, just like he’d done a thousand times before.

Cas didn’t remember feeling this level of panic before. Even as he shifted his legs around to where he could slip his own hand to wrap around Dean’s cock, mirroring the motion Dean was making until they found a rhythm in rocking against each other.

He hadn’t felt this level of desperation, panic and need since the first few times either. And Cas couldn’t help the almost sob that racked through him as Dean’s free hand slid through his hair and Dean’s mouth slid , wet and greedy against Cas’s ear. Cas’s own hand pushed against Dean’s other hip, pulling him into tighter contact.

When Cas came, it was hot and bright and loud in his own head in a way it hadn’t been in years either. He heard Dean’s cry of release, felt Dean shudder against him, but that seemed far away for a moment. 

There was suddenly the familiar feeling as Dean gave up trying to support his own weight and collapsed almost bonelessly against Cas. Just like he’d done a thousand times before. Cas wondered if they’d be able to lay like that forever. It was comfortable and familiar. Familiar enough that Cas found himself running his fingers through Dean’s hair for a moment.

And then there was the distinct sound of knocking at the door and Cas burst into laughter.

“Someone drew the short straw.”

Dean pulled away from him slightly and turned to look at the door. “What?!”

There was silence on the other side for a moment and then Chuck’s somewhat nervous voice. “Uh. We kind of need you out here, Dean. You have a raid to plan.”

Cas wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t as Dean pulled away completely, picking clothes up off the ground as he did so.

“Give me a minute, Chuck.” Dean hesitated. “Where am. . .um. . .I?”

“Talking to Risa last I saw.”

Cas snorted in response to this, but managed to straighten his face when Dean turned back to look at him.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

There was silence and then the distinct sound of Chuck’s hasty footfalls away from the cabin.

They dressed in silence, so it made Cas jump slightly when Dean spoke.

“You can’t tell him, you know.”

For a moment, Cas thought he was talking about Chuck, then it sank in. “You mean you.”

“Right.” Dean nodded as he drug his shirts back over his head. “You have to let him get there on his own. It could blow up in your face. Or worse. He could freak and it could not happen.”

Cas wanted to say that wasn’t possible. But he also knew the Dean who had wandered into camp a few days ago was still a few months away from that epiphany and. . .anything was possible.

“You’re showing him what’s happened to his brother, but I can’t tell him. . .”

Dean shook his head. “I’m trying to prevent the bad shit from happening, Cas.”

Cas pulled his jeans up and grabbed his shirt off the floor as Dean continued to talk. “On the off-chance he doesn’t change something when he gets back, he’s gonna need you with him.”

Cas couldn’t stop the smirk that formed at this and Dean rolled his eyes at him. “Shut up. You know what exactly what I’m talking about.”

Cas let his smile die at that. 

“Yeah. I know.” He paused, thinking it over for a moment. 

“But no. You’re right. I won’t tell him. It wouldn’t be the same.”


End file.
